Atoms And Ash Poem by L.B. Temuco

Behind opaque windows, above all reflection.
It matters not where the night abandons you, day after day.
We all offer our understood confessions
You, my forgiveness for having not found all this sooner.
In the green book you gave me, pages flicker like the creeping steel fingers of dawn
Stretching meniscus-like across the palm of God.
A golden hand beneath which the sun frets and calls like a raven, fearful.
Atoms and ash. Blood and plasma.
In this human flesh pain is dulled by times lack of purpose.
Between these pages dirty unwashed colours are cast on a sword.
Laid down. Surrendered.
The winter feels cold.
It leaves this heart hollow; its translucent sap frozen.
Oblivion at last.
A Quietness.
Out of adversity and separation you grow.
An incomprehensible freedom and a voice fading.
Everything worn away now.
The wellhead of water gone leaving only a faint moistness,
Wet over the stilled unique stones we became.
Don’t talk of love or the pale shadow of friends.
Take the sky back.
I hear music in the clouds and a river close.
Always returning.
This unaccountable beauty.
This blind privilege we name love.
The eternal beach on which our bones now lay.
These silent cemetery’s in our souls.